


Even Itself Out

by utterxnfatuation



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Depression, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, References to Depression, broken relationship, mentioned anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/utterxnfatuation/pseuds/utterxnfatuation
Summary: There’s a silence, and Alex’s fingers creep back into his own, a sigh escaping his lips. He remembers nights where he would spend hours kissing them, loving every inch of his body because it was a temple and it was what he could do to show his appreciation. That was before the Xanax prescription and the therapist. That was before both of those things didn’t work. “I don’t love you anymore.”-This is kind of a sad story, and it doesn't end happy, so I'm sorry about that. Beware of the tags, and I hope you enjoy! (Also, read my notes if you're confused or want any more info <3 )edit} also, can we just talk about how i wrote about justin being an h addict and then in season two he's a what now? im a legend thats all i have to say goodbye enjoy <3





	Even Itself Out

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a little warning, because people like warnings. This does have to do with drug addiction and a drug addict's life and relationship. I am not a drug addict myself, and I don't do drugs, but many members of my family are and I watch things like these happen a lot. I also did my research, so I'm not ignorant to the subject. Any other mental illness mentions I am familiar with as well. I don't like 13 Reasons Why, but while I watched it when it first came out, I fell in love with Justin and Alex, so I don't necessarily agree with the shows meaning and what it does and did, but I do like a few characters from it. I wrote this in two hours, and at 11 at night, so sorry for any rambling or mistakes. Thanks for reading, xoxo

The world around him was spinning, but he felt heavy against his grey leather couch, grounding him down to the earth he walked on. There were windows letting sunshine into his shared apartment behind him, flashing warm rainbows over his jean-clad thighs and pushing twinkling lights through the birds' nest on top of his head. He was facing forward, back lazily bent against the back of his sofa, one leg crossed under the other, with both arms laying in his lap, crossed at the wrists. The skin under his sweater was warm, making his whole body sweat, but he had no motivation to pick himself up and change. He heard the front door open and close, and without even looking up, he knew it was Alex. He heard something hit the marble countertops, probably bags of food, judging by the crinkle of plastic and the sound of the fridge door opening and closing. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sat there, studying the pixels of their flat screen, which he’d spend a day and a few stitches on mounting up on the wall. That was back when he was sober and Alex was happy. He hears footsteps pitter-pattering along the hardwood floor, coming closer but around him, passing him by to get to the bedroom. When they return, they’re lighter, and they sound more like Alex. He probably had taken his shoes off. There’s a sling of a keychain against the basket by the front door, and more footsteps. This time, they don’t pass him by, but end up silently in front of him. He stares through Alex’s skinny legs, covered by worn-in blue jeans with a few rips in the knees. He remembers picking them out, paying for them at a counter in some strip mall. The memory was warm, and he could feel light pushing on him as he thought. But now looking back at it, the fluorescent lights of the store were too bright and the lady behind the cash register was too happy.

“Justin? Baby, how long have you been sitting here?” He continues to look past the gap between Alex’s sharp knees, bowed together as he crouched. His eyes were still hazy, and they didn’t focus on the face in front of him until they lowered to their knees, and laid a gentle hand on his cheek. He blinks once, and he can see Alex’s face, golden septum ring glinting from its place in his nose, splashing color onto his cheeks. He was there the day he’d gotten it done, he’d sat next to the piercer and held his hand. He’d had the cutest little look on his face when he realized it didn't hurt as bad as he thought it was going to. He remembers the memory, one he’d held fondly in the back of his mind, and found nothing but way-too-loud tattoo guns and a way-too-talkative-piercer. He can see the worry swimming in his beautiful eyes. He can’t find anything bad about his eyes, they were the first thing he’d noticed about him, and no matter how poisoned his mind was, he couldn’t spoil that memory. He can see his septum, and he can see his eyes, and he can see the rose of his cheeks, but he can’t see him. He’s blurry, but his beauty isn’t.

“C’mon, Jus, I know you can hear me.” His ears twitch at the mention, and his looks over Alex’s face one more time before looking away, down back to the space between Alex’s knees. The fingers on his cheek creep up to dance along his forehead, like they used to dance when the apartment was empty and Justin had never shot up before. Alex’s fingers drop down to hold his, intertwining them and squeezing them tight. The other hand runs to hold the crease of Justin’s elbow, and just like he knew it would, it got his attention. He pulled away, a jerky movement, and flashed his gaze back up at Alex, clouded in panic. It was sore, his veins purple and protruding sickly from his bones. It was all he was now. Alex used to be the skinny one.

“That got your attention,” Alex mumbled under his breath, looking down at his own hands. He had no motivation to speak, it felt like his throat was filled with cotton balls, and he couldn’t breathe properly all of a sudden, but he knew Alex wanted him to. He wanted him to say he was sorry, and that he loved him, and if asked of him, he would in a heartbeat. Not because it was easy to lie, because it was. No, because he lied to his mom when she called, and told her that he was doing great at his job and he and Alex were closer than ever. He lied to his friends when they knocked on the door and asked if he’d even seen the outside world in the last month. Of course he had, through his window. He lied to his boss when he quit, and to his professors when he dropped out, and to his coaches when they let him go. But, he couldn’t lie to Alex. He loved Alex. With every rise of his chest, and every breath he took, and every step he walked, and ever needle he used, and every spoon her burnt, he loved him, and he would never stop. He didn’t love him because Alex loved him back, he didn’t love Alex because he had a place to stay or food in the fridge, he didn’t love Alex because he had money and a warm bed. Back when they met, he’d had those things, too. No, he loved Alex because he had fluffy eyebrows, and a golden heart, and rosy lips, and a soft smile, and because he was accepting and open and so damn beautiful in every way that he couldn’t help feel guilty for taking him away from so many other people who deserved him so much more. But, he was selfish, and Alex wasn't going anywhere.

“You always had my attention,” he murmured hoarsely, eyes flickering up to focus on Alex’s. He had to force himself to find his gaze, to push away all the static, but he managed with another blink. “Do I?” “Yes, Alex, you always have my attention.” He had to push the words out or they wouldn’t leave his mind, like every task needed so much more thought than normally. That’s what happens when you shoot up heroin. But, the second he’s said it, his mind went blank and Alex’s face was fuzzy again. There’s a silence, and Alex’s fingers creep back into his own, a sigh escaping his lips. He remembers nights where he would spend hours kissing them, loving every inch of his body because it was a temple and it was what he could do to show his appreciation. That was before the Xanax prescription and the therapist. That was before both of those things didn’t work. “I don’t love you anymore.”

And his whole world crashes down on him. His first thought is yes, yes you do because you’re my boyfriend and you promised and you can’t not. And his second is no, you don’t because I fucked up and I broke promises and I don’t fucking deserve it. And he lets those two thoughts battle in his head for a few seconds, and then everything feels heavy. He notices the fingers in his more than he had before, and he feels the sweat dripping down his back, and he can feel how matted his hair is against his scalp. Everything becomes hyper-aware, and then everything is gone. He can’t breathe without Alex, without his love. He can’t live without his boyfriend by his side, even if he sleeps tucked on the other side of the bed, halfway on the floor, sobbing as quietly into his pillow as possible, like his sadness would be a bother to him at all. Even if he eats tucked away in the corner of the dining room, hands shaking with effort to try and keep the silverware from clinking against his plates like it would be bad to pull him from his trance on the couch. Even if they spend every second of every day apart, he can’t live without Alex. He watches, through the haze of his mind, as Alex stands up. He feels his fingers tug away, and he comes back.

“No- Alex, please, no, don’t leave.” He pulls his fingers back, curled tight around Alex’s pale skin, and he shoots him the most desperate, puppy dog eyes he can manage. “Please- I know I’ve fucked up, but ple- give me a chance. I can change, really, please don’t leav-.” Alex cuts him off. When he opens his mouth, he immediately shuts his, and is ready to plead again and again.

“I don’t love you anymore. I love the Justin I met in high school, the one who used to kiss me every night and text me every morning. He used to make me dinner and take me to movies, but you aren’t him anymore. I can’t expect you to be,” his voice cracks, “but I miss him.” He sees him now, all his pain and beauty wrapped into one body, and he’s a ripped masterpiece. “I miss him so much, and I know I can’t bring him back, and I know you can’t bring him back, either, but I just- I wanna try, Justin. Babe, I wanna try and get you back, so I can love you again, please…” It’s all he wants, and it’s all Alex wants too, but he can’t. He hasn’t tried as hard as he could, but he tries as hard as he can with his motivation, and he just can’t get sober. So, Alex leaves with tears streaming down his cheeks, stumbling into their bedroom to cry into his pillow. He’ll try to be as quiet as possible, because as much as he doesn’t love him anymore, he hates him just a little less, and he lets that even itself out.


End file.
